


The Same Fire

by KindlerOfStars



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: (yes it's Ed), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family Shenanigans, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of (Canon) Genocide, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, POV Alternating, Protectiveness, Sick Roy Mustang, Sickfic, Swearing, Team as Family, character introspection, rating is just a precaution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29277168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindlerOfStars/pseuds/KindlerOfStars
Summary: Roy is sick and stubborn, everyone else is concerned and trying to help, and ghosts from the past make everything seem darker than it really is.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Roy Mustang, Edward Elric & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Roy Mustang & Team Mustang
Comments: 14
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's rewatching this masterpiece? I am, and it inspired me enough to write this, my first story for this fandom.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it!!!

The weather had been cold and rainy for days. Maybe napping in the car was a good idea, at least it was warm. But driving all the way from home just to stay in the car was rather counterproductive, not to mention some level of stupid, if you asked him.

Being unable to create a spark with all that humidity was bad enough, even if it wasn’t raining right in that moment. He was not going to be hindered from working as well. Not a chance in hell. _Ah, that’s an interesting one._ As an alchemist, hell was more of a concept than anything else. Yet-

Roy got pulled out of his reverie the second he left the car, feeling like the ground lost some of its firmness. He leaned against the door, eyes closed, trying - and failing - to will everything to stop moving. When did the spinning start anyway? Even in that position, it was as if the car’s surface was sliding sideways and that was _not_ entertaining.

After a few moments, the light-headedness finally passed, and he let out a sigh of relief. God, he was tired, more than before. The few meters to the building entrance, mildly annoying before, were now just painful to look at.

“I’m good. It’s fine.” And now he was talking to himself. _Fantastic_.

_Might as well move._ He groaned, slowly heading towards his office, his back deliberately straighter, his expression colder with every step. Appearances and all that. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

His cigarette was almost finished, so he reached to grab another from his jacket pocket.

“It’s not even mid-morning Havoc,” Breda scolded, receiving a glare in return.

“Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“I could smell you before you entered the room.”

Havoc made the effort of looking hurt, gesturing dramatically. “I do not smell like an ashtray. At least not from that far.”

“I didn’t say that you did,” the other man responded in a playful tone.

“You implied!”

Fuery, that had been observing the conversation, chuckled quietly at their antics, while Falman, although silent, sent them an amused look.

At that moment, the office’s door opened. They rose from their seats, expecting to see the colonel, yet it was Hawkeye that entered, carrying a pile of papers to her desk. She raised an eyebrow.

“The colonel is not here yet?”

Havoc lowered his hand, shaking his head. “Nope. He’s late. Maybe something happened?” He was getting a bit worried, truth be told.

She looked like she was going to say something, probably a reassurance of some kind, but then the door opened for a second time.

He turned, greeting the colonel whilst saluting sharply. The view was not quite what he, and most likely all of them, hoped for. Now they knew the reason for the late arrival.

Mustang looked like a mess. Sure, his expression was his usual one when he nodded at them, yet it appeared forced. He was pale, almost as white as the curtains, walking with care to his desk. Once there he swayed on his feet briefly, before practically collapsing on his chair. As far as they were concerned, he might as well have.

The four men exchanged concerned glances, reaching some sort of agreement before returning to their desks.

* * *

Havoc glanced at the lieutenant, her unyielding attention even now on the colonel. _She’s worried_.

Said man seemed to be trying to work on the first of the reports to review. Trying was the key word, since he was in the same page for about 15 minutes. Then, Mustang suddenly dropped his pen as he was caught in a coughing fit.

He resisted the impulse to get up and help, since there’s not much he can do without Mustang waving him off and besides, he does like existing in a non-scorched form. In any case, he moved, his cigarette put out and thrown in the nearest trash can.

Hawkeye walked to Roy’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder, speaking too quietly to be heard from their desks. He smiled back at her, not his usual overconfident smirk, just an honest smile. Likely to soothe her, but failing thoroughly, since that fit made him go two shades paler than before.

Havoc wordlessly followed the lieutenant when she left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

* * *

Riza felt like shooting something. Or someone. _After all these years, he still doesn’t get that taking care of himself is as important as keeping everyone else safe._

She sighed. If he wouldn’t, then she would, as she always did. _Warm camomile tea with honey should help with the cough. Maybe some medicine in it too._

The door clicked and she turned instinctively, finding herself facing Havoc.

“The colonel is sick,” he said. A fact, not a question, not that anyone would doubt it.

Her only reaction was a nod.

“And refusing to admit it, as expected,” he said lightly, and yet she could see the concern in his eyes, the uncharacteristic tension in his posture.

“Unluckily, yes. I’m going to make him some tea, see if that helps.”

Havoc inclined his head as if anticipating the action. “And what can the rest of us do?”

At that, she gives a small smile. They all did work well as a team for a reason. “Keep an eye on him while I’m gone.”

“All right. Sounds good, for now.” He ended in such an unclear tone she almost asked what the _“for now”_ meant, yet decided against it. Sometimes her sanity only stretched so far.

Then, as an afterthought, she added, amusement colouring her voice, “Oh and don’t let him use his gloves either. Accidents can happen.”

He snorted, turning to go back inside. “We both know that sick or not, the colonel is headstrong by definition. Don’t blame me for any potential fires.”

_Don’t I know it._

* * *

For the next few hours, the circumstances stayed the same, and yet, not quite.

Havoc was glad that the colonel’s coughing had dwindled since the tea, but he was now sneezing every few minutes. Not that any of them were counting. He had lost track by the 27th time anyway.

Mustang was still too pale for his liking, and probably had a fever, seeing that despite the office being heated, he still had his coat on. His determination appeared to be lessening by the minute.

Every once in a while, Hawkeye would go to him taking the already reviewed papers, always asking how he felt.

He almost rolled his eyes at every _“I’m fine, lieutenant”._ As if anyone in the room was going to believe him regarding his own health.

Havoc was still pretending not to notice that Hawkeye would double-check every paper the colonel gave her, making a corrected version to be signed later.

_Well, I’m not just going to stay here and do nothing_. His desk work was done, for the time being, so it was time to initiate mission ‘help-the-colonel-and-reduce-the-workload’. _We might have to get a better name later._

He sent a serious look to his three associates, who nodded back, and walked to the first lieutenant’s desk with a grin, before asking quietly, “So, got anything for us?”

She shook her head lightly. “It’s not necessary, really.”

“I think it is. You don’t have to do it all by yourself. How about you continue with those,” he said, waving a hand at the reports. “And we help with any other tasks that you have. What will the colonel say if we let his second-in-command do all the work?”

Her expression was both thankful and amused, just for a second. “If you insist, I need some files from the archive room A-2,” she said, scribbling a few numbers in a piece of paper. “ And there’s a message to be sent to Lieutenant General Grumman.” Another piece of paper was held out.

Havoc smiled, giving a quick salute. “You got it, lieutenant.” She laughed to herself.

The time until lunch was passed with the whole team carrying files, relaying messages, and other important tasks, while whoever wasn’t working kept watch over their commanding officer. Mustang didn’t seem to find anything amiss, which was probably for the best in the long term.

* * *

Roy just wanted to let his head hit the desk and rest for a bit. He didn’t, because he knew that if he did, he would just fall asleep on the spot.

He wasn’t too nauseous or coughing anymore, which was one of the few positive points of the day. The tea did help, seeing that his breath no longer rasped in his throat. He couldn’t thank Hawkeye enough.

His head was still killing him, pounding nonstop, in a distressing-but-manageable level, if each time he sneezed was left out of that measure. It was so piercing he ceased thinking clearly until it passed.

With a groan, he let his head rest against his arm.

A hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him gently. Roy opened his eyes and blinked, trying to adjust his blurry vision to the painful light. _I nearly fell asleep_.

Hawkeye was right at his side again, looking at him with her calm and nonetheless determined “ _tell me what’s wrong”_ expression.

“Sir, you should eat something. It’s past noon.”

No matter how much he knew that to be a good idea, his stomach turned uncomfortably at the idea of lunch.

“I’m not hungry,” he said, making eye contact with her. Whatever she saw made her sigh.

“What if I bring you more tea, and some toast?”

_Doesn’t sound too bad_. “But only if I feel like it.” He hazily wondered if that made him sound like a child. On second thought, he decided he was too tired to care.

She smiled at him, that very specific way even he rarely saw, and agreed. “Only if you feel like it.”

Another good thing was that he did felt like it, and the tea held the nausea at bay. Hunger was not a main feeling at that moment, but he ate the toast anyway, slowly, and calmly.

Glancing at the papers, the mild comfort faded a bit. Those were, quite regrettably, still there.

_Oh, but first, something I had to ask_. “Lieutenant, when did you have lunch?”

“I didn’t. No need for concern, sir. I will when the rest of the team returns from theirs.”

He blinked, only then noticing the rest of his team, was in fact not in the room. That made sense, he supposed. “Very well.”

Roy tried to focus back on his work for about 10 minutes. However, the words mixed together, in a maze of utter nonsense, tiring his already heavy eyes and mind. Normally the darkness would be an unwelcome guest, and yet he was too weary to mind, letting the cover of warm ignorance fall over him.

* * *

Havoc entered the room and stopped abruptly, which resulted in Breda crashing face-first against his back.

“Hey, what-”

The blond’s hand moved to quiet him, earning him a confused expression, and then pointed forward.

“Oh.”

Colonel Mustang was now sound asleep, sitting at his desk. While Havoc knew it was not funny, with him being sick, he looked anything but cold and intimidating, and much, _much_ younger when sleeping. This thought Havoc would deny with all his strength, of course. Nevertheless, it was as close to true as anything could be.

He turned to the lieutenant, gesturing towards the door. “You can leave now; we’ll keep watch during your absence.”

* * *

He was tired of waiting. The last few days were void of any progress in searching for the stone. Logically, the next step, considering that the bastard didn’t call for him, was barge into his office unannounced. In itself, it wasn’t that much of an uncommon situation.

Ed strode through the hallways, waving to anyone who greeted him. Arriving at his destination, all of his reasoning flew out of the window and his mouth closed almost of its own accord as he gazed inside the room.

Instead of nearly lodging the door in the wall, he closed it noiselessly. Fuery and Havoc waved, while Breda, Falman and Hawkeye nodded in his general direction without stopping their writing.

Mustang didn’t greet him, thus there were two possibilities. One, he was pissed-off. Ed did _not_ blow up stuff or insult the wrong person recently, so that was not it.

Taking that into account, plus how quiet and warm the room was and the pallor in Roy’s face, left option number two. He was sick, and, knowing him, in denial like an dumbass.

Really, if the idiot didn’t have Hawkeye, or the rest of his men for that matter, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself in one piece for long.

_“Oh yes, what a shame indeed. The colonel could defeat a military company with a snap of his fingers, and was put out of commission with an unattended cold. How unexpected,”_ they would say.

He snorted inwardly. _Nothing of unexpected about it._ For the love of God, or Truth, or whatever, what a stubborn bastard.

At any rate, it was better to go with it. The worried expression was replaced by a grin as Ed walked to his superior’s desk, steps both precise and light, leaning with one hand on the dark wood.

“Hey colonel. How’s it going?”

Finally taking note of his presence, Roy looked up from the papers, smirking faintly.

“Fullmetal. What do you need this time?”

“Contrary to what one would think, I don’t need help at every minute of the day.”

The older man’s smirk, despite strained, grew a little wider. “Sure you don’t.”

His expression turned contemplative, the smile falling a fraction. “There are no news or rumours that can assist you, at the moment,” a hint of remorse seeping through in his voice at the end. “I’m sorry.”

Ed had to deliberately _not_ raise his eyebrows in surprise. Why apologize for something out of his control? Yes, the stone matter was... a major one, which sounded like an understatement. But there wasn’t any blame here to be assigned. This wasn’t what he had anticipated 15 minutes ago. Sarcasm, sure, perhaps some yelling, but this was weird.

In alternative, he waved one hand in a hopefully encouraging way. “That’s okay. We’re busy today anyway.”

“Busy? Where is Alphonse by the way?”

“He went shopping.” _Distract and execute_. “Mind if I use your couch and borrow a book for a couple of hours?”

Mustang started to nod, but stopped, closing his eyes briefly, visibly regretting the motion.

“If you want, choose one from the bookcase further right.”

“Will do,” he answered, with a quick salute that made the man chuckle.

Ed moved to the couch, picking up a hardcover volume on the way, a dark blue one with a silvery title. It dealt with the composition of territories, from the atmosphere to soil and water, with concrete and hypothetical connections to alchemy.

Dimly, he recognized some excerpts, and simply turned pages in a steady rhythm, watching Mustang from the corner of his eye.

This was how Ed unofficially joined their totally official mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it so far! Next chapter should be uploaded soon (a note; darker stuff will be included in chapter 2, tags are already included).
> 
> Comments are always welcome, I do love feedback ;)
> 
> Stay safe everyone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd here's chapter 2! Hope you all like it!

After what felt like an eternity, which in reality was about a couple of hours, the working day was close to an end - give or take another two hours.

If questioned, they could just come up with some mission related issue that needed their attention. She wasn’t too bothered with that, it was getting late, and it was winter anyhow, many operatives sick and (wisely) at home. Even if anyone asked, their team had thankfully some margin of independence and that justification would be accepted.

Glancing at the windows, she surmised that the faint light that came through the curtains would soon change into rays of moonlight. No rain could be heard from outside, as it had passed over the course of the afternoon, although a strong and chilly wind still rattled the windows.

In her perspective, the day wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Most of the day’s paperwork was done, minus signatures and some unessential details to be sorted later. Their efforts were discreet enough.

Looking away, she saw that everyone was packing up their things, preparing to go home. Ed got up from his sprawled position on the couch, stretching not unlike a cat.

The one thing that should be changed was their superior’s stubbornness, who was supposed to be in bed resting, instead of sleeping sitting up. It made her sigh for the 20th time since morning before grabbing the colonel’s car keys.

To her surprise, Havoc took the pile of papers she wanted to take with her to finish and started for the door.

“I’m just taking these to my car, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said, talking over his shoulder.

“To... your car?”

He stopped, looking as confused as she felt, replying with a question of his own. “Where were you going?”

“That’s not an answer,” she frowned slightly, yet carried on. “I’m going to drive the colonel home, try to get him to properly rest.” _“And keep an eye on him”_ was left unsaid, not that it was necessary.

Havoc grinned at that. “Exactly. And we,” he said, gesturing in their colleagues’ direction, “are going as well. We talked about it when you went to get more tea.”

Hawkeye just raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. First, you may need some help with him. Second, Ed needs to go talk to Alphonse first, so we need more than one car. Third, it’s cold, staying at the colonel’s for a while sounds good.”

“He does have a nice fireplace, or so I’ve heard,” Fuery put in.

“See? Win-win situation.”

The lieutenant narrowed her eyes. “Anything else?”

Havoc rubbed the back of his head and cleared his throat a bit. “Well, we do worry... so there’s that too,” looking her in the eye once he finished.

She nodded. “All right.” _Let whoever says Mustang’s men are as cold and serious as he is be dreadfully wrong. On both accounts._

* * *

All Roy knew was fire and sand, ashes and screaming, the touch of his gloves and the smell of scorched flesh. He was running, racing through narrow paths, and jumping over walls.

A raging fire encircled him, no matter where he went. Moving barely created some space between himself and the flames. They flickered with the flow of a furious gale, which oddly did nothing to help with the temperature.

Countless cries of numerous ages hissed darkly around him. Some angry - _“Why did you kill us? Murderer...”_ -, others full of sorrow - _“Why did you? We didn’t hurt you...”_ \- and many pleading - “ _Please, not my children... Kill me but spare them…”._ He kept going, despite his great urge to throw up.

But there was also another voice, far calmer than his surroundings, uttering incomprehensible yet gentle words. It reminded him of how unworthy of such kindness he was.

Roy continued to run, turning endless corners, and dodging blazes. There was no moonlight, only the glow of the flames at his heels, casting dark shadows over too many bodies. The red tinge made the already gloomy scenario terrifying.

The atmosphere was stifling, too warm and dry, hurting every time he inhaled and making him cough every three steps. Somehow, the sand under his feet felt the opposite, cold as steel.

_“You’re okay, Roy. You can stop.”_

“If I stop I’ll burn with them. I can’t.” The voice kept echoing soft reassurances, almost, but not quite, drowned by the inferno. He couldn’t listen to it.

“You would leave if you knew what I did.” The wind was howling, now deafening as thunder. _“Monster... You killed us... You are no hero.”_

He could do nothing but move faster. _No_. There was no way he was going to let the voice’s owner burn too. “Leave me. Stopping won’t help. Nothing will.”

Roy miscalculated his next step and stumbled on a rock, crashing to the cold sand near a building. The fire was everywhere, the air so hot it felt like it would combust on itself. He closed his eyes in resignation to his fate.

Then, a fresh breeze passed, keeping the blazes a few meters away from him.

_“You are not in the desert. You are home, with me. You can rest."_ The voice was similar to the one from earlier, yet felt more familiar. Safer. _Real_. But the sand under his hands felt real too.

“How?” he asked in a broken voice.

The cries around him got louder then, until he couldn’t hear the serene call anymore. He shook his head, grinding his teeth. When a few flames moved anew, licking at his feet, he refused to move away and yelled back. “I’m sorry!”

The fire appeared to hesitate. “I’m sorry. I killed you, and _I’m sorry_. I tried to do the best I could. I thought I had no choice. That there was no other way...” He paused to inhale slowly. “I’m a murderer, yes. And I can’t bring back the dead. All I can do is try to _fix things_.”

The lonely angel spoke one last time, another gust of wind dragging away more of the fire and making the air breathable. _“Just listen to me, and nothing else.”_

The wind swept at him once more, and with that the fire was finally extinguished, as if running out of fuel, and a pale light filled the night sky.

The ground was comfortably fresh, like during a spring day, the sand seemingly fading away between grass blades.

Roy let out a shaky breath. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, enjoying how fresh the still flowing breeze felt on his face.

* * *

The world felt fuzzy and muddled. Mustang blinked blearily, staring up at the ceiling. He frowned as recognition hit him. That was his house, his bedroom to be precise. But there was no memory of getting there. Actually, the last thing he did remember distinctly was finishing his tea, about two hours after lunch.

Then he froze, sensing he wasn’t alone in the room, a calm breathing sound suddenly clear. Turning to find its origin, he smiled. A flash from what he assumed was last night came to him, raging fire, the soothing hum of a song he had once forgotten and the coolness of a wet cloth on his forehead. _She stayed._

He groaned as he sat up, feeling the pull of his sore muscles. His lieutenant seemed to be sleeping deeply, so he got up slowly, partially to not make any noise, partially because he felt too tired to move quickly.

Walking to the bathroom, he washed his face, sighing at the sensation. What in the previous day had felt like the bellow of a thunderstorm was now the breeze of a light rain. Still, his reflection was too pale, obvious dark circles under his eyes.

As he stepped into his living room, he realized some things. His fireplace was lit, the room cosy and inviting, the heat steadily warming the entire house. There were more people there than he expected as well. The sight made him chuckle and promptly stop before it could turn into more coughing.

Breda and Falman were in the larger couch, a few cards in their laps and the rest on the coffee table. Fuery was in one of the armchairs and Ed was in the other one, curled up with an open book. Lastly, there was Havoc, asleep at the dining table, a few documents spread out in front of him. All of them were sleeping in somewhat unusual - and probably uncomfortable - positions, hence his amusement.

A door closing behind him, albeit not much louder than a whisper, made him jump. “Good morning, colonel. Feeling better?”

He turned, finding Alphonse carrying a few logs. “Good morning, Alphonse. Yes, I am, although still tired. But thank you.”

The young boy nodded. “I hope you don’t mind me and brother being here. He wanted to keep an eye on you - and no he didn’t tell me that, I just know it - and I came because I also wanted to.”

Roy waved a hand, feeling warmth bloom in his chest. “That’s fine. When did I... I mean we...” He knitted his brow, hesitating. It seemed to be late morning, so he was missing close to a day. “I can’t remember much from yesterday so huh, when did everyone get here?”

“Yesterday evening. You were asleep when I got here and brother said you were most of ride too, so that’s normal.”

“Ah. I see.”

It was interesting, he thought, how his life changed along the years.

When he was young, he only had his mother and the girls, his biological parents a dim impression from the past. In military academy, Maes had become the best friend he ever had, joining his definition of family, as did his wife and daughter some time later.

When Roy decided to pursue his goals in alchemy and met Riza, she had been fierce and loyal. She still was, never leaving his side. With time, the rest of his squad changed from fearful respect to heartfelt loyalty.

And more recently, those two boys that showed up in his life so unpredictably, fitting in seamlessly in their small group. He cared for them, more than he would admit. Even that too stubborn for his age brat. This realization was new, yet something he already knew to be true.

Naturally, he laughed, muffling the sound with his hand.

“Sir?”

Roy just shook his head, doubled over, trying to calm his breathing.

“Don’t worry.” He took a few slow breaths, some chuckles escaping in between. “I simply understood a couple of things. And in my house Roy is fine.”

“Oh, all right si- Roy, sorry.”

He took a blanket from a drawer, throwing it over his youngest subordinate. It was amazing how neither him or any of the others woke up with all the noise they were making.

“What do you think about helping me make some breakfast, Alphonse?”

“I think that is a great idea!” He answered in a lively tone, already moving to the kitchen. “You should be resting, so I can do most of the work.”

“What shall I do then?”

“You can help me find everything and supervise! I can also make you some camomile tea, lieutenant Hawkeye said it helped yesterday.”

For the third time that morning Roy Mustang laughed earnestly. “Of course. I don’t know what I was thinking. Your plan is much better.”

Some days he could feel sand under his boots, ashes on his skin and the smell of burnt flesh in the air. He knew it wasn’t real, but the dark corners of his mind were a powerful thing.

That’s when his _family_ came in.

His teams’ weekly pranks, like when Havoc hid Breda’s shogi set just for the hell of it and they just spent two hours arguing about it until Mustang lost his patience and threatened them with his gloves. The board had suspiciously materialized in a drawer in the span of 10 minutes.

When Ed just barged into his office looking for half an hour of _argumentative discussion_ with some sort of insult mixed in if he was feeling cheeky.

Memories with Maes could still brighten his day, even if sometimes they still made him fall apart altogether.

And Riza. The mirth in her eyes when he had way too much paperwork to finish in a day due to his own procrastination and the way she smiled at him when they were alone.

They all stood by his side, even, and perhaps especially, he now realized, when he wasn’t aware of it. They may not share the same blood, but it didn’t matter. They all had the same fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Hope you enjoyed it, and that it didn't get too exaggerated in some parts.
> 
> As I said, comments are always welcome, hit me up ;)
> 
> Stay safe everyone!


End file.
